


Healing Hands

by Skyescraper



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Dorks, Keith (Voltron) is Bad at Feelings, Keith (Voltron) is a Mess, M/M, Pining Lance (Voltron), Sick Character, Sick Fic, keith is sick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 16:34:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17328581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyescraper/pseuds/Skyescraper
Summary: Keith never gets sick.Or so he thinks.He's glad Lances here, though.





	Healing Hands

Keith _never_ got sick. He just didn't. Apart from the occasional light cold or stomach ache after a heavy meal and mild headaches after a particular hard workout session, he never got sick. His mother had always been glad about that, while other children in the kindergarten stayed at home during the flu waves, he always got away without the slightest cold.   
  
It continued like that, he never got sick in high school, which didn't mean he had a perfect attending score. There were other reasons why he often skipped classes.   
  
It hadn't been his happiest time, okay? He had had some enemies and hadn't been an angel either. There were- circumstances keeping him from going to his classes every day.   
  
Not that it mattered, he was in college, the one he wanted to go to and he was relatively happy. He had his small, selected friend group and he stayed away from bigger trouble.   
  
And he never got sick.   
  
Except that he just had sneezed the third time today.   
  
Hunk startled up from his notes as Keith gave a particularly loud sneeze and observed him with his concerned brown eyes.   
  
“Did you catch a cold somewhere?” he promptly asked, taking a sip from his soda placed next to his notes.   
  
Keith shook his head, sniffing.   
  
“Nah, it's probably just something in the air. I guess,” he mumbled and tugged his red hoodie higher, so his ears were halfway covered. He _did_ feel a bit odd, he was cold and shivering slightly, but at the same time his cheeks felt really hot.   
  
Maybe the all-nighter he pulled yesterday hadn't been his best idea. There just was this temptation to play Skyrim and the next time he had looked at the time, it had been 5 am.   
  
Keith sniffed again and glared at the massive book propped up before him. He still had to go through two more chapters for his assignment, but he was losing motivation quickly. Why did he take this engineering class again? Ah yeah- aeronautical engineer diploma, that's why.   
  
“Lance and Pidge should be here soon” Hunk mumbled, catching Keith's attention   
  
“Well, I hope they remember to bring pizza.” he huffed in his hoodie, mouth watering in eager anticipation of his beloved pineapple pizza.   
  
“You know them, they'll remember, and we'll hear Lances declaration of war all evening.”   
  
Keith snorted. Lance and his dramatics toward Keith's choice of pizza.   
  
“He's not better, I hate the smell of the tuna on his pizza” he mumbled, and Hunk grinned with a nod, highlighting another section of his text.   
  
Wow, this guy _actually_ got something done.   
  
Keith groaned, but luck was on his side. The already worn door slammed open, revealing an animatedly talking Pidge, being swallowed by her huge winter jacket. Keith caught something about “alien radiowaves” and “pancakes”, which he didn't even question. Pidge sometimes had her moods, and apparently right now it was time for that.   
  
Lance trudged in behind her, four pizza cartons stacked up in his arms. He listened to the smaller girl intently, for once not being the one to talk like a waterfall. He gently nudged the chipped door closed with his heel and placed the cartons on the small coffee table.   
  
Yes, Keith didn't have a kitchen table, the dingy kitchen was way too small to fit one in. They had to do with the couch and an extra chair. The others weren't off any better, they had just as small dorms.   
  
They had to do, but it was just perfect.   
  
“You're a savior” groaned Keith and slammed his book closed to search for his pizza. Lance pouted.   
  
“Well, great and all, but I _still_ can't believe you're abusing my generousness for this.” he gestured towards Keith's carton, which revealed the dreaded and equally loved pineapple pizza.   
  
“I don't care” came the muffled answer, Keith already being fully invested in filling his empty stomach and Lance rolled his eyes in lieu of an answer. He sat down on the creaky, small chair, while Pidge squeezed herself between Keith and Hunk, shoving the mess on the table aside to make room for the pizzas.   
  
“Hey, careful, I need that stuff” protested Hunk, stopping his pencils from rolling down the table.   
  
“Priorities” Pidge threw back, and Keith gave an agreeing hum.   
  
For a few minutes, nothing was to be heard besides their occasional hum or chewing.   
  
“And, got anything done?” asked Lance after they all had sated their first hunger.   
  
“No” answered Keith at the same time as Hunk and Pidge said “Yes!”   
  
Lance grinned at Keith.   
  
“What, it's not your day today?” he teased.   
  
“ _Don't_ tell me you got more done than me,” he warned but Lances grin widened.   
  
“My essay is done,” he answered smugly, and the black haired male groaned.   
  
Well, apparently it _really_ wasn't his day.   
  
“Don't you worry, mullet, you still have a week left” Lance easily moved on, but Keith still frowned. Yeah, Lance may be right, but he still felt the pressure of the assignment and the important grade connected to it, he didn't want to have to do an all-nighter the day before, just because he kept pushing it away.   
  
Just like all the other times.   
  
He sneezed again.   
  
“Whoa, and now you're getting sick.” whispered Pidge with huge eyes. “Keith Kogane, getting sick, that has to be the rarest event”    
  
“I'm not getting sick” he mumbled, stubborn. Hunk huffed.   
  
“Keith, your cheeks are flushed and you're practically buried in your hoodie, I bet you're cold” he scrutinized him with a sharp glance.   
  
“You're going to bed now, Keithy- boo” Lance clapped his hands and stood up “We can't afford to lose you to grave illness” he declared dramatically.   
  
“Keithy- boo,” Keith mumbled,  “How did you even come up with that. And no, I'm _not_ getting sick” he insisted, glaring defiantly at Lances outstretched hand.   
  
“Nu-uh, no protesting, you have to be tucked into bed.” Lance insisted as well, just as stubborn.   
  
“I'd listen to him” Hunk snickered and nudged Keith while he cleaned up the table.   
  
“Just roll with it, it's late anyways” came Pidges dry input and Keith groaned.   
  
“Wow thanks you guys,” he huffed, but finally got up, scowling as hard as he could to make it clear he wasn't happy _at all_ , while they gathered their stuff.   
  
Lance grinned, “Don't be so grumpy, you'll thank me tomorrow” he patted Keith's arm, to which his scowl deepened even more.   
  
Lance ignored him and tugged him to the bed. “There, you have to change your hoodie, where's your pajama?” he asked.   
  
“I usually sleep with my shirt” Keith pointed towards the black shirt thrown over the pillow, and Lance rolled his eyes.   
  
“Why am I not surprised.” he chuckled.   
  
“Hey guys, we're heading out” called Pidge, head sticking through the doorway and Keith mumbled a bye.   
  
“I'll be going soon too, but first, I have to make sure you're _actually_ staying in bed. Now change! ”he threw the shirt on Keith. For once, he didn't protest. He actually felt tired and kind of dizzy. Maybe they were right, and he was on the direct way to getting sick and dying or something.   
  
“I bet you don't even have medicine, right, mullet?” Lance asked, not even expecting an answer, but Keith shook his head, nevertheless. He did not.   
  
“Okay. Well, I'll just ready a tea for you, lie down a bit. ” and Lance was gone, shortly after, the clatter of mugs being taken out of the cupboards came out of the kitchen.   
  
Keith yawned sleepily and laid down. He was out like a light.   
  
The last thing he heard was an amused huff, the sound of a mug being placed on the nightstand and a soft “What am I going to do with you”. A ruffle of his hair and then he was gone.   
  
* * *   
  
He felt like he was _ dying_.   
  
His limbs felt so heavy, his throat burned and he felt like he was going to puke. Fuck, he really had gotten sick, there was no more denying it.   
  
But at least Keith didn't have to admit victory to Lance, him going to bed early had probably made it worse or something.   
  
Anyways, he was _ pretty _sure he was going to die.   
  
He groaned as he attempted to open his eyes. Everything was too bright and too hot, he moved to tug the blanket down, but just the slight movement made his surroundings spin.   
  
Oh damn, he really was glad he never had to go through this before, this was hell.   
  
He whines miserably, there was no way he would get up like that.   
  
Shit, his classes.   
  
He flinched and scrambled to his phone, groaning lowly at the nausea swapping over him. He really had to move slower, but he felt so weak, even sitting up challenged him.   
  
Squinting, he checked the time, yeah he had missed his first class. With a sigh he opened the few messages he had, the first one being from Hunk: “I told the prof you're sick, she's chill with it.”   
  
Relieved, Keith sighed. Hunk was an angel.   
  
“I'm coming over after my classes!” Lance. Why did that boy feel the need to pamper him? He was probably collecting blackmail while Keith was defenseless.   
  
Still, he couldn't suppress the little, happy flutter in his stomach. He cared, a lot.   
  
He didn't know Lances schedule though, so he didn't know when to expect him. He laid back down, too weak to actually get up and make something to eat. He wouldn't manage to keep it down anyways, so it was probably better this way.   
  
Keith nodded off to a heavy, restless sleep, strange dreams making him wake up ever so often again, but his tiredness prevented him from actually staying awake.   
  
This went on for hours, but it could've also been just minutes, Keith wasn't sure. The next time he woke up was due to a soft curse.   
  
He opened his eyes blearily, catching sight of Lance who scooped up the spilled contents of a grocery bag.   
  
“Good morning, sleepy head. I'm here to nurse you back to health! ”he greeted while he stacked up the random things he had gotten.   
  
Keith mumbled something indistinguishable to which Lance chuckled.   
  
“Feeling not so hot?” he asked, walking over to the pile of misery Keith was, “Ok no, you definitely have a fever, so, feeling too hot maybe” he snickered at his own joke and Keith groaned.   
  
“Well, I'll get a soup ready, but first-” he got up, muttering to himself while rummaging around in the small bathroom. Keith wasn't able to pick up what he was actually saying and began to nod off again.   
  
Something cold was placed on his head and he sighed in relief. It felt _so good_. The towel was pleasantly cool and Lances hand pressed against his cheek to check the temperature.   
  
“Here you go” Lance mumbled, “This will make you feel better while I ready a soup” Keith hummed, leaning into Lances soft touch.   
  
“You're like a cat,” he laughed, but the hand disappeared, leaving Keith alone with the cold towel and he frowned. Why couldn't Lance just stay here and keep his hand on his cheek all day? Keith whined softly.   
  
“Aww, already missing me I see.” called Lance from the kitchen and Keith buried his face in his pillow. Fever really did strange things to him.   
  
Seconds later, Lance joined him again, a steaming hot bowl of soup in his hands.   
  
“You look like a huge mess,” he laughed softly, tucking a strand of hair behind Keith's ear.   
  
“Imnot” mumbled Keith in a pathetic attempt to fight back.   
  
“You are, but that's why I'm here!” he said cheerfully. “Can you sit up?” he asked, slight concern in his voice.   
  
“'Course I can” he threw back, which he hoped didn't sound as pathetic as he felt right now. He didn't have much more time to ponder over it as he tried sitting up, working his way up slowly. Lance waited for him, patiently holding the bowl in his hand.   
  
Finally, he was propped up against the wall, breathing heavily. He wasn't used to feeling like this and he already had enough. Being sick _sucked_ , and he wanted nothing more than for it to be over.   
  
“There, it's still hot so you'll have to take your time.” Lance held the bowl and a spoon towards him, which he carefully took, afraid of him spilling something.   
  
Then, the spoon slipped out of his hands.   
  
Keith blushed. No way he was actually unable to hold a _damn spoon_.   
  
“Seems like I have to feed you” Lances grin was way too big.   
  
“Stop enjoying this so much,” he mumbled, scowling, but as usual it did nothing to dim that smile. Lance was just too _bright_.   
  
“Nah, it's just good to see the almighty Keith Kogane being weak for once, it makes you human.” he smiled, there was no maliciousness or bitterness behind his words, just soothing warmth.   
  
It was _ okay _to be sick, he said, it was alright. He was _allowed_ to be weak.   
  
Keith sighed. Well, it seemed like he had to give in.   
  
“If you're so adamant about it, do it,” he mumbled, and Lance took the spoon.   
  
“I promise, I wont use this as blackmail material, it's no fun if you're too weak to fight back.” he chuckled and finally raised the spoon, “there, it should be cool enough by now. ”   
  
Keith scowled at Lance, and then the spoon touched his lips. He opened them, and Lance carefully tipped the spoon, the warm soup filling him up immediately. It was tasty.   
  
Then he blushed, _hard_.   
  
This whole situation was just too unreal, but at the same time he knew it was as real as it could get. He was sick, Lance was here and now fed him, like he was a helpless, bedridden guy.   
  
He was, but that wasn't the point.   
  
The point was, he never had seen this side of Lance. He knew the guy cared about his friends, he was the first one to help if someone was struggling, he had a big family so he probably had to take care of sick ones all the time, it fit him in a way. But still, he never could have imagined him actually being that nice.   
  
And apparently, Keith's heart couldn't really take it. It pounded away in his chest, making the blush on his face _even darker_.   
  
This was the fever talking. There was no way he liked Lance in even the smallest way.   
  
“Another one?” Lance asked, spoon already in the air. Keith nodded, and they repeated the process.   
  
This went on for minutes, until the savory soup was finished.   
  
“Are you feeling any better?” the Cuban boy got up and gathered the dishes and Keith hummed.   
  
“A bit, yeah.” he mumbled, “ the soup was good,” he admitted, not meeting Lances eyes. He got tired again.   
  
“Heh, it's my moms recipe, she always makes it when someone is sick in our family,” he smiled fondly. “Go back to sleep Keith, you still look super tired,” he smiled.   
  
Were Lances smiles always _that warm_? That _fond_?   
  
He just nodded and laid back down, bunching up his pillow below him.   
  
The clattering of the dishes in the kitchen and Lances humming made him slip into unconsciousness quickly.   
  
He dreamed of a cool hand softly carding through his hair, of a voice whispering sweet nothings and a pair of gentle lips pressed on his temple.   
  
Then he fell asleep fully, the lucid dream a memory which he wasn't sure was real or imagination.


End file.
